ever walked into a fastfood store with no one on the counter but you, and when you're happily devouring your meal you look back and see that the line on the counter is longer than the great wall of china? that's the jet effect...

Saturday, August 20, 2005

i hate sunsets. for me, they are the saddest thing ever. every demise of the sun seems a parallel demise of my soul, waning of the light into an unknown darkness. it is that time of day that i find myself blind. the light that ought to have hit my eyes and bring colors around me are consumed by the imminent nothingness... i turn on my headlight, but there is nothing in front of me. but the sunset.

every sunrise is a different day apart from the one that the sunset has ended. i can never take back that day. i grow older with each sunset. and yesterday is nothing more than a memory. a memory lodged in one of my brain cells that will die and never pass on that memory to another brain cell. it is gone forever by the coming of the next sunrise.

i hate sunsets. it paints a perfect picture of life. but it never assesses how the day had been, nor how tomorrow might be. it heralds the night. and i am alone again.

i hate sunsets, particularly now, when i know you're somewhere beyond that fiery sea. your sun is just about to rise, mine is about to sleep. i want to be that sun, setting here, but rising to where you are.

sometimes, i find myself alone. thinking. this is one of those sometimes. but unlike any other sometimes, this sometime is eternity. my head is filled with words, but it the channeling to my mouth that's having problems.could it be my tongue? is it impaired that it has to delegate all the speaking to my fingers, hammering mercilessly upon the helpless keyboard? i would call myself pathetic. the deaf and the mute are more interesting than i am. i write words that no one in my lifetime can ever fathom, or simply read. silent sanctuaries for sometimes like this one.

and then it happens. my head dries up. no more words are scrambling to be out first. no more ideas. just letters. incoherent letters, as if stricken by dyslexia. i take a pain killer, hoping that the brutal attack on my brain cells might awaken some of them into making more ideas. nothing. just a deafening silence that only i can hear. an echo ricochets in my head, hollow.

there is no chance for brain freeze. one cannot freeze what one does not have. it has gotten to me. it finally did...